Chapter 6: The Trap Inside the Trap
I didn't speak for a moment.
"Say that again," I said.
"The $63.4 million was transferred into an account registered to Nora Mercer Blackwood," Grace said.
"Your full legal name.
The account was opened eight months ago at a private bank in Delaware.
The signature on the application matches yours."
"I didn't open that account."
"I know," she said.
"That's why I'm calling you and not the FBI."
I pressed my back against the car seat.
"He was going to frame me," I said.
"That's what the evidence suggests.
The account freeze you triggered tonight — that was actually the problem.
The plan required the money to keep moving.
You stopped it mid-transfer.
The funds are sitting in an account in your name that you didn't open, which means right now, on paper, it looks like you moved $63.4 million out of the Blackwood Group."
"And if I hadn't frozen the accounts?"
"The money would have moved again within hours.
Out of your name, into something untraceable.
And you would have been left holding the liability for a transfer you never made."
I looked at the house.
Grant's silhouette moved past a window on the upper floor.
"He was going to use me to clean the money," I said.
"And then hand me to the authorities."
"Yes," Grace said.
"The plate tonight — the scene at dinner — that was meant to provoke you into doing something reactive.
Something they could use.
They didn't expect you to freeze the accounts.
That wasn't in their plan."
"Who retained you?" I asked again.
A pause.
"Richard Blackwood," she said.
I went very still.
"Grant's father hired you."
"Three years ago.
When he first understood what Grant was doing." Her voice was careful.
"Richard is not a good man, Mrs.
Blackwood.
He made choices I won't defend.
But he drew a line at this.
He didn't want you destroyed."
"He watched his son smash a plate against my head tonight."
"Yes," Grace said.
"And I think he'll carry that for the rest of his life." She paused.
"He's prepared to testify.
Full cooperation.
Everything — the original deed, the loan instruments, Grant's private account history, the forged signature on the Delaware application.
All of it."
"What does he want in return?"
"To not spend the rest of his life in prison," she said.
"And to make sure Grant does."
I thought about Vivienne at the window.
*I told you.
Eleven years ago, I told you this day would come.*
She had known too.
Maybe not everything.
But enough.
"Where do you want to meet?" I asked.
"There's a hotel on Meridian, two miles from the Blackwood estate.
Room 14.
I have everything printed and ready." A pause.
"Come alone.
And don't tell Grant you're leaving."
I looked at the upstairs window again.
The silhouette had stopped moving.
"He's watching," I said.
"I know," Grace said.
"Go out the side gate.
The one by the garden.
It doesn't have a camera."
I didn't ask how she knew that.
I just put the car in reverse.
Behind me, the front door of the Blackwood house opened.
Grant stepped onto the porch.
He wasn't running.
He was just standing there, watching my taillights.
He held up his phone.
Then he smiled.
My own phone buzzed in my hand.
May you like
A text from Grant's number.
*Wherever you're going — I already know.*
